


Dawn of Finality

by Kaiterai



Category: Fire Emblem Echoes: Mou Hitori no Eiyuu Ou | Fire Emblem Echoes: Shadows of Valentia
Genre: Angst, Gen, Resurrection Springs, correction - hopefully it's angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-11
Updated: 2017-10-11
Packaged: 2019-01-16 06:28:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12337317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaiterai/pseuds/Kaiterai
Summary: "I wished for us to join together, so that we could protect each other in battle.But I failed. I couldn't save you."The aftermath of Python's death.





	Dawn of Finality

There he was.

The blue-haired archer kicked up dust as he walked, one hand rubbing the back of his neck. There was a smile on his face, the same smile that gave Forsyth a feeling in his heart that he couldn't explain.

He seemed to try to move as little while he sauntered over. It was almost reaching the point where he didn't seem like he was moving, but Forsyth didn't mind. He continued to stand there, surrounded by nothing but darkness and trees.

His brown eyes were transfixed on his friend, taking note of how the spells that were being cast reflected beautifully in those sapphire eyes. Red flames seemed to grow in those irises of his, along with yellow sparks that reminded him of bright fireworks.

His bow was being loosely held in his free hand. Forsyth could see the calluses from here - he remembered when the village ladies all gushed over the two of them about their marks and scars. He almost let out a bitter laugh at the thought. Markings of suffering and pain were cute. Sexy, even.

He could hear his lance falling on the ground. His feet were moving on their own, taking steps backwards, as his breaths started to spiral.

If this was an illusion, it was a terribly good one.

The archer's name was on his tongue. Forsyth's face visibly paled as he stuttered his name, his back slamming against a tree. His armor was starting to dig into his skin the more he moved back, but he didn't mind. This minor pain was nothing. He continued to push back against it, eager to get away from his friend as fast as possible.

"Forsyth," he cooed. "Trying to run away from ol' Python?"

Forsyth could feel himself falling to the ground, his eyes wide as they looked up at Python. His hands reached for dirt, crunching the grass underneath; he was hoping for something to save him from this endless torment of speaking to Python. He continued to quiver, shaking his head. "P-Python..."

Python was close enough to begin towering over the soldier. His blue eyes continued to shimmer in the colorful light of the spells, but there was something else in them that made Forsyth look away. His hand was now resting on the tree, the same tree that Forsyth was leaning against.

Forsyth could feel something wet on his face. He knew that his own emotions were getting the better of him - these were tears. Yet, as he reached for his face to wipe it off, he couldn't help but notice that these weren't tears.

They were blood.

The archer leaned down, whispering into Forsyth's ears. They were the same words that he heard every time he saw his friend nowadays. These were the same words he dreaded, because he knew it was true.

"You said you would protect me."

His voice was laced with bitterness, and all Forsyth did was curl up more, covering his ears. He started to shake his head, his hair grazing his face. "I know I did."

"Heh - sure you did. Poor Python is dead now, all because of you."

Forsyth closed his eyes, pulling his legs in closer to him. He continued to shake his head, and his fingers continued to dig into his ears in hopes of not hearing Python anymore. But his friend's voice was louder than he expected, and no matter how hard he tried to shut him out, his familiar voice resonated in his head.

He could feel droplets of something hitting the back of his head and rolling down his back. His shirt was getting wet because of this, and he was certain that some droplets were hitting his green armor as well. It had been silent for a while, except for the sounds of the raging battle, and he assumed that these droplets were the beginnings of a storm.

When he looked up, he wasn't greeted by the view of a tranquil forest.

He saw a bloody gash.

Blood continued to drip from it, staining Python's clothing and Forsyth's armor. The brown fabric was ripped, revealing burn wounds on his skin from those Rigelian mages, the blisters surrounding the fatal gash. He let out a quiet whimper, covering his mouth, as droplets of blood now landed directly on his face and nose, mixing with the tears. 

He closed his eyes. With one hand still covered over his mouth, his other arm moved to reach for Python's arm, in hopes of apologizing to him about everything he had done wrong.

There was nothing he could feel - no fabric, no freezing hand, nothing. He opened his eyes in panic, searching for the friend that he desperately needed to apologize to.

But nobody was there.

\-----

"Forsyth."

Python was back.

The wound was still there. Blood was still dripping from his clothes and onto the ground. His voice was still the same, bitterness and all. Those eyes were still the same, although the lights that were there before were now gone, replaced with a feeling of emptiness.

Forsyth's cries nearly drowned out Python. His chest was shaking as he let out sob after sob. He was gripping his lance tightly, letting the wood splinters dig into his bloodied hand. The steel of his armor was digging into his kneecaps, but physical pain was nothing anymore.

No, it was absolutely insignificant. That feeling of guilt and raw anger that resided in his gut only started to spread, until it began to take over his heart, his body, his mind. The only thing that could beat this pain was his previously fractured hand, the same hand that punched the stone statue of revival and life.

He watched as the tears were dripping down onto the ground, creating small puddles beneath him. The world was spinning around and around, and he could hear nothing but his own screams echoing in the room.

Perhaps, old Forsyth would have covered his mouth and tried to act decent in front of the Deliverance. He would have elbowed Python for making a snarky remark about the spring, and told him that he should act more respectful, especially in the presence of the great knights.

And perhaps, just perhaps, Python would have replied with another snarky remark. 

Darkness wrapped around Forsyth's heart, wrenching another shaky sob out of him. There was a gentle hand on his shoulder that gave him a squeeze of reassurance, but Forsyth didn't care. He couldn't even hear the words that were coming out of this person's mouth, whether it was the knights that he once respected, the leader that invited Python to fight with them, or the remaining close friend he had.

"Forsyth."

He could hear the voice now. It was a bit clearer, and he looked up, silencing his sobs. A wave of nausea came over him as he saw Python.

He was kneeling right next to Lukas, who was clearly saying something. He gave a little wave, completely disregarding the soldier that was still speaking words of comfort and advice. Forsyth glanced at Lukas, whose ruby eyes were focused on him. They were calm, but there was concern there that Forsyth could recognize easily.

Forsyth could only give a small sneer as he glanced back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. What a shame: the three of them were back together, but Lukas didn't know that. It was a reunion that was between two worlds - reality and fiction.

A shame, indeed, that Lukas was too absorbed in reality.

Python's hand reached for Forsyth's face as soon as the green-haired man was ready to say something. Forsyth could feel himself falling over, feeling like he was pushed with just a mere touch from Python, but he steadied himself with one gloved hand.

The hand felt real, too real to be fake.

It was ice cold. There was no sign of life in it - it was devoid of anything that made one human. Yet, Forsyth could feel himself scrambling to touch it once more. Python's name was ripped from his mouth as he pushed forwards, itching for another touch. The ginger widened his eyes, taking a step back, and could only watch as Forsyth stretched his arm and fell.

The sound of armor against armor, the sound of armor against stone, the sound that was ringing unpleasantly in everyone's ears only echoed in Forsyth's head as he realized what this meant.

He had missed.

Python was now on his feet, a small smirk on his face. His blue eyes, that seemed darker than usual at that time, looked down at Forsyth, who was now struggling to get up. "The spring dried up? Ah, whatever. I know you'll find another way."

"Another way..." Forsyth looked down at his hands. His leg was burning after being nicked by the lance he had carelessly left on the ground. Flakes of dried blood now covered both the silver and his leg, and he was certain that the blood of the Rigelians was now in his bloodstream.

He shook his head, sweat flying from the tips of his hairs. "I'll get you back, Python. I will."

When he looked up, the archer was gone once again.

\-----

It was funny how Forsyth always thought about Zofian fairy tales once Python died.

He remembered his father reading to him when craved reading about valiant knights and treacherous adventures. But at the same time, he could remember his father letting out a sigh and telling him that there were no more knight stories to read - just other children's stories.

And once that began, Forsyth began to have nightmares instead of dreams. He saw monsters in the shadows, and there were no knights to protect him from them this time. The stories of Rigelian beasts stalking misbehaving children pushed him to focus on his studies for a while, in hopes of scaring them away. Perhaps, just perhaps, they were just a distraction for him - to get him to stop thinking about what he was scared of.

His friend, the new monster that haunted him everywhere he went, however, refused to let Forsyth be distracted.

Python was everywhere - in his nightmares, in his dreams, on the training grounds, and on the battlefield. He never announced that he was there, but Forsyth could just see him, whether it was out of the corner of his eyes or directly. He always made an attempt to look away; yet, something always pulled him back. His head would always turn in his direction. His mind, his eyes itched for another glance.

He stood, occasionally meeting Forsyth's hazel eyes and giving him a little wave. But when he didn't even bother to move, he would stand there, his eyes glassy.

Those eyes were the exact same as Forsyth remembered when he saw the archer's corpse for the first time - darkened and empty, reflecting the night sky that was beautiful compared to the bloodied earth. He winced simply thinking about it, quickly turning away and blinking the tears away. They were too similar.

Way too similar.

He remembered one night, a night in particular. This was the night that he promised to keep his promise - to stay away from the places that Python would always show up in. He wouldn't hear him, nor would he see him, and hopefully, that would make everything better.

He had gotten into fights with Clive and Lukas today, both fights about Python and resurrection springs. He almost laughed by just thinking about it, because a part of him just knew that if the once-energetic Forsyth saw him shattering in front of the two people he once looked up to, he would be gutted by the aspiring knight.

What would his last words be, if he was killed by himself?

He wasn't so sure.

His hands were wrapped around his ears as he sat on the dirt ground. He was in his own tent, the beige cloth protecting him from the drizzle outside.

The dirt reminded him so much of the dirt of the battlefield. It was freezing cold and damp, except before, it was damp with blood that was still pouring from the corpses' veins. He shuddered just thinking about it, and curled up quickly, his forehead slamming into his knees.

You have to keep your promise. You're not going to-

"Avoiding me, aren't you?"

Forsyth winced, looking up. This voice. Even though his fingers were digging into his ears, in hopes of drowning out that voice that now haunted him in his dreams, he could still hear him. He turned around, expecting to see the archer again, but nobody was there.

Perhaps the voice had only been a figment of his imagination.

But no, it sounded real. It sounded too real to just be an illusion, and Forsyth stood up, brushing wet dust and his promises off of his pants. A smooth voice, with a mocking tone, a lazy drawl - this voice had to belong to Python, and by the sound of it, he was right outside.

He was a fool to think that he would see Python whole again, without that magic and sword wound that pierced his gut. But he had hope.

What he forgot was that hope tricked people and killed even more - including Python.

He pushed back the folds of his tent, and stepped onto the wet grass. Droplets of rain splashed on his hair, but he dismissed them. They weren't important to him as of now. His eyes scanned the horizon, ignoring the pitiful glances of the other members that wondered what he was doing, alone, at night.

There.

In the sea of green grass and beige cloth, he could see the bright blue hair. There was no wound this time, and Forsyth felt something in his throat. An overwhelming sense of joy forced him to take a step closer to the figure. His arms and feet even began to move on their own, pushing the people that stood in his way to get closer to this one archer that he missed too much.

But as he walked closer, he could see it. The red that was beginning to appear. It ruined the grass around the archer, the raindrops that dripped on the archer, and the hope that he had about the archer. The lump was replaced by a wave of nausea as he stopped and stumbled. The world that was still for a split second started to spin once more, but he looked down, taking a deep breath, and remembered that there would always be another resurrection spring.

Right?

He glared at the invisible barrier in front of him, and continued to trudge. He couldn't, however, stop the shaking of his hands, whether it was from the cold or his fear.

As he took each step, his lips trembled, desperate to tell Python that he was sorry, that he would do anything to bring him back. 

"You would do anything?"

"Y-Yes." The answer flew out of Forsyth's mouth, causing him to freeze right before he reached Python. Now that he was so close, he was ready to apologize - but nothing came out. His jaw could only go slack as he stood there, mesmerized by the back of Python's head.

Python turned around, smirking. His hand reached for his face once again, and Forsyth reached for it - it was cold, but there was some warmth that he could feel. Both of his hands wrapped around Python's cold one, and their eyes met.

Forsyth's eyes were widened, reminiscent of a lost puppy. There were tears that glazed his eyes, and at that rate, he stopped caring. They began to drip down his cheeks, mixing with the bloodied grass and red rain. His hand was warmer. Heat. Life. Hope.

Yet, he was blind to the malice in Python's eyes, the daggers of ice that radiated from them.

"Then follow me."

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed.
> 
> Anyways, sorry if you needed extra warnings or anything;; I was sort of hoping the tags and stuff were enough, but if anything extra's needed, just comment or something - I'll add them asap.
> 
> This was originally written for Angstober (by ChxrryMilk on Wattpad), but it fits here. So here you go!
> 
> If you've read this on Wattpad, great. That means you've probably read the completely unedited, rushed one, and kudos to you for surviving 2k words where I just summarize things. But this should be edited fully? I might give it another look this weekend, but as of now, it's pretty clear.
> 
> I'm also wondering if the formatting/tagging is correct...
> 
> So, yeah. Thank you! Constructive criticism is always appreciated.
> 
> \- Kaiterai


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